Of Danger & Tenderness
by asaneismRnuTs
Summary: Buffy is big girl now, this is her thoughts on Angel and their shared bond with danger and tenderness. BA all the way baby!


Of danger and tenderness

He reminds me of a great big cat, a lion or panther. The way he moves; his body completely in tune and so full of grace. You can almost imagine how he will always land on hit feet. Almost see him stretching gracefully in the sun on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Only this cat does not come out in the sun, he does not have lazy Sunday afternoons.

To say that he's sex on legs is an understatement. How he makes as simple and innocent a task as putting on a shirt into something sexual is beyond me. There's a danger and darkness, about him that is so completely and utterly his because it's undeniably combined with the greatest tenderness and love that any man have possessed.

He's not even a man in the strictest sense of the word. He hasn't been for over 200 years. I have mixed feelings about that fact. Parts of me mourn his loss of humanity. Feel sad that so many things were taken away from him in that alley in Ireland. He told me once it happened in an alley. Funny that he also chose an alley for our first meeting. Other parts want to thank Darla for turning him; because lets face it without her, he and I would have never met. He would have died generations before I was even thought of. Still doesn't mean that I'm not happy she's gone – just means that in all of her evil she did do something good.

I sometimes wonder what he was like before the alley in Ireland. He doesn't talk much about it. I know he did his best to get most out of life and I know that he was no stranger to women. I wonder if he also looked like a great big cat to them or did that only come with the demon? I think the man and the cat were born together.

We were not supposed to have a life together, but I was never one to follow rules. Vampires and Slayers are not supposed to fall in love. Well I guess there really are exceptions to all rules. We defy logic and rules and bask in the moonlight together.

There's darkness inside of me as well. I've felt it for years now. The first time I felt it was the first time he went away. His body and demon stayed behind. I did it. I was the one who drove him away. To look into his eyes and see nothing but that darkness and danger made me realise that I wanted both. He has told me that the demon wanted to kill me but couldn't because he knew. He knew I wanted him and he wanted me as well. He tried to break me – nearly succeed as well. Then the tenderness returned into his eyes and I killed him. When he came back the love and tenderness was different. The danger had seeped into it. The cat became more obvious. I was once told that Death was my gift and that I craved the darkness and the hunt. All of it is true, and all of it is combined in my Lover.

We are a paradox of light and darkness. We are not supposed to be able to co-exist. For years he wouldn't believe that I was able to make the right decisions as to what I needed and deserved. He thought I was supposed to be kept out in the sunlight and have a normal life – whatever that is when you're a Slayer and every apocalypse can be your last. After a few years I told him where he could stick those noble notions. Told him that I was a big girl who could take care of herself – that I would let him know when or if I needed a knight in shining armour and until then all he had to worry about was what we were going do when Willow was positive that she already had or could remove the happiness clause.

It took Willow a week. I was in London. I had gone there to make sure that temptation was removed and also to let him see how much it sucked when somebody else make decisions for you. Funny how some places can just feel like home instantly. London is like that for me. Of course it helps that Giles lives there and that I've spent quite a lot of time there over the years after I'd made nice with what was left of the Council. I remember it being a beautiful day in late August.

The city was buzzing with tourists. In Hyde Park I noticed a group of 3 young people, two guys and a girl. The men seemed wary of each other, not in a threatening sort of way, just in a "This is the first time I've met you and I don't really know you" kind of way. The young girl on the other hand was all but glowing with her love for the both of them. Yet it was two different types of love radiating off of her. The love towards the older of the two men was one of utter devotion, respect, comfort and lust. Towards the younger man it was more of sisterly love albeit no less devoted and complete. I caught a glimpse of her left hand where she was wearing a silver claddagh. The love coming off her in waves combined with this symbol of my catlike angel's love made my heart ache and rejoice at the same time.

Later while enjoying the last rays of sunlight in China Town, Willow called me to confirm that happiness from now on would only be a good thing. Blessed by my darling Willow. I started packing right after I'd hung up the phone and made plans to catch a plane right the next afternoon leaving time for some very important lingerie shopping in the morning. Poor baby he won't know what hit him – I'm not seventeen anymore that's for sure.

The way he says my name… It goes straight my knickers. I told you I've been spending a lot of time in London. His voice is another testament of how danger and tenderness is mixed in him. It's like chocolate to the ears and you just know how the nastiest most delightful things can roll off of that tongue. I told you he's sex on legs and he's got a mouth made for sin. I have this spot along my hipbone which he's the only one who knows about. He has a way of kissing just that one spot that drives me crazy.

Luckily I've got a couple of tricks myself. It's all about danger and tenderness. My first couple of days back in L.A. is kind of a blur. Days and nights melted into one big blur. He might not have lazy Sunday afternoons, but he sure knows how to enjoy himself and me. Slayer muscles are wonderful things and control of them can turn even a 200+ years old vampire into a babbling fool. Of course I only use my powers in the name of good. Also sometimes I need to be the fragile one and let someone else be strong and in charge, if only just in the bedroom – or wherever we might be, well you know what I mean.

The first morning I woke up next to him I started crying. I thought I had moved passed my 17th birthday, but I guess some things you never really let go of. Of course my tears made him put on his brood face. The deep dark chocolate pools that are his eyes got even deeper and darker and his velvet voice shook a little as he told me about how he would have wished for that morning, so many years ago, to have turned out in the ideal world. For a taciturn shadowy guy he sure knows his way around words. If I had been wearing panties they would have been soaking.

I conned him into letting me drive his car. To my defence I have to say I have gotten a lot better – some might even say good, at driving over the years. Maybe it is an alpha male thing that he is reluctant to let me take control. Also what is up with a vampire driving a convertible in L.A.? It is a really nice car though. I can see why he didn't want to let go of it even when Wolfram & Hart offered him that fleet of cars. There are just some points in life where a big ass backseat is so much more useful than the tiny dittos in those hot little sports cars. We stopped at a supermarket and got some food and snacks for a little midnight picnic in a spot overlooking the beach.

Moonlit picnics with my baby have always been one of my favourite things. You have to love slayer metabolism. I can live off of junk food and won't grow fat, but I guess it's only a fair trade for the risk of living very short lives. Over the years it also seems as if my angel's taste buds have become more human. We have discovered that really dark chocolate is strong enough to leave a trace with his senses. Now chocolate as we all know goes great with a myriad of other tastes. I can tell you first hand that there's not an inch of Angel that doesn't taste even more heavenly with a little chocolate in the mix. He on his part seems to be bias towards painting symbols with chocolate sauce on my body and then kissing them away. Quite the artist, my lover. Champagne is another flavour that is able to get through and when you think about it chocolate and champagne is really not a bad way to go.

After our feast we lie wrapped together in blissful embrace under the moon. Being sandwiched between my body and the sand, still warm from being kissed by the sun all day, has turned my lover's body warm to the touch. His skin though more than 250 years old is as perfect as ever. One of these days I will make him tell my how he got the tiny scar he has on his forehead. I asked him once and he dodged my question, but his eyes told me it wasn't a painful memory, atleast only painful in the way of a bruised ego.

Lying here under the stars listening to "Moonlight Drive" by The Doors on the car stereo, I count my blessings that perfect happiness is no longer something to be feared. "You know I met Jim Morrison." I guess my honey is in share mode tonight. "Really?" He knows I'm going through a Doors phase. "Yeah, he spent hours upon hours at this bookstore where I used to go as well," His hand is stroking my spine absentmindedly, lost in thoughts of long ago. "at that time he still looked like Adonis and was always wearing those leather pants." Leather pants in California, yeah there's a long tradition for that. I wonder if I can talk him into putting some on one of these days.

One night when he thought I was still asleep I felt Angel slipping out of bed. He may have changed over the years but he would still be first pick as a leader of the national Olympic brooding team, so of course I thought that was what was going on. Only when I risked looking at him he wasn't brooding. He was sitting across the room with a sketchpad and pencil. Like I said he's quite the artist, not just with chocolate patterns on my body, but the old school way with a pad and pen. I wonder if he doodles too or if it always turns out a masterpiece. I remember a time where a drawing from Angel meant trouble, now they just mean love, devotion and desire. He keeps his sketchpad in an old leather binder inside a roll top desk in our bedroom and not in the office. That's a good thing because some of the drawings though not always with me sitting as a model they are all of me and lets say it like this; they might be drawings but they still were not meant for anybody but the man in my bed.

Darkness, come to think of it, it's not always a bad thing. The two of us we thrive in the dark. They say that all cats are grey in the dark, but this cat with a face of an angel, body of a god an imagination of a poet will always stand out. Dangerous and tender all the same time.


End file.
